“Your breakfast is waiting for you.”
She smiled at Glory, who took the opportunity to disappear.
Damon was home.
This was … new.
In the past month, he’d only been home late at night. They rarely shared dinner together. He always waited until they were alone before he showed her any kind of attention. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, she tried to assess herself as a stranger. Did she look sick?
Her cheeks were red, and she placed her palms flat on them, hoping to make it an all-over pink, but she gave up as slapping herself wasn’t exactly fun.
“Get your act together.” Hands clenched at her sides, she made her way down to the dining room.
She nodded at several of the guards. Most of them ignored her. Some couldn’t control their sneers, but she refused to let them get to her. If she was pregnant, she was going to have to be at the top of her game.
Damon sat at the head of the table when she entered. No one was around, but the scent of bacon and eggs was heavy in the air. She also detected a hint of coffee, and she put a hand to her stomach, feeling it turn.
This wasn’t good. Every single sign so far indicated to her being pregnant.
Rather than panic about it, she took a seat beside him, being sure to reach for a piece of fruit. A nice, heavily scented orange.
“You wanted to see me,” she said, feeling so damn formal as she said it.
They’d been fucking like rabbits just last night, and here she was, treating him like some kind of boss.
Damon didn’t answer. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” Did she say it too fast?
Glancing over at him, she forced a smile. So long as she breathed through her mouth and didn’t detect the coffee, she’d be able to get through breakfast. What she needed was a plan though. How could she get to a pharmacy without him knowing the reason for the trip?
Damon rapped his knuckles on the table and tutted. She watched as he reached into his jacket pocket, and on the plate, he dropped a ring. She still held the orange quite close to her nose as the scents made her mouth water, but that ring, she recognized it.
It was the same ring her grandfather and his father passed down the line of each ruling Russo. The eldest son.
Her father had told her that she would never get to wear this ring. Only men could. Men were the only people worthy of ruling the Russo line.
He’d never take off the ring. Not unless he had a true son. The man he called an heir.
“What is this?” she asked.
“Your father attempted to run,” Damon said. “My men caught him at the docks, trying to leave.”
She put the orange down and picked up the ring, turning it over to see the Russo crest embedded in the ring. He’d been so proud of this ring, never giving it up. Always wearing it with pride. If this ring was on her plate, it only meant one thing. He was dead. That was what he’d said to her so many times in the past. No one would get this off his finger unless his body was dead and cold.
The ring was too big, but she had no desire to slip it onto her finger.
Her father was dead. She didn’t need Damon to tell her this.
Milah nibbled on her lip and stared at the ring, not exactly sure how she should feel.
Should she be angry? Disappointed? Upset?
Her father had been a horrible human being, but he’d still been her father. Tears filled her eyes. Both of her parents were now dead and gone.
“Did you … have you killed his … other children?” she asked.
“No.”
Milah looked up at him then, shocked. “You haven’t?”
“No.”
“Why?”
He didn’t speak.
“I … I never got the chance to meet them. I know they exist. I think he had a son, but because it was with a woman … he called her a whore, he would never claim him, nor would he allow his name to be given to him. He should have this.”
“Milah, that is your ring.”
“No, it’s not. I’m not even the eldest, Damon. I’m not anything. I was a daughter. He often called me a waste of space.”
“Yeah, but you soon came in handy when it was saving his neck.”
“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything.” She put the ring on the table. What little appetite she had disappeared. Just like her father to ruin even the comfort of food.
“Milah, it’s yours, and I won’t be seeking anyone else out to wear it.”
“But you will seek them out to kill them?” she asked.
“Take the damn ring.”
She had to get this conversation to stop. “I think I might be pregnant.”
Damon went silent.
She stared at her plate for the longest time, but that wouldn’t tell her what he was thinking. Lifting her head, she stared at Damon, waiting.
His gaze was on her.
“Did you hear me?”
“How do you know?” he asked.
She chuckled. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the morning sickness. We’ve had unprotected sex. I haven’t had a period. Name your reason. I want to go to a pharmacy.” She pointed at the ring. “This isn’t important to me.”
“Milah, he was still your … father.”